Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia

A flurry of chaos, was the only way Shell could describe the rest of the day after his oldest sister had spoken in their language. His mother had burst into tears, claiming it was a miracle, that her beloved older daughter had finally returned to them; Nessa had fled to- well, he wasn't sure where Nessa had gone, but the translator had chased after her. And his father had stayed behind, stunned at the turn of events. The day had passed quickly, a blur of emotion and color and sound, fading into evening and then into night. And Shell had watched it all in silence, the quiet witness.

"You believe her to be nineteen, however, Elphaba is actually twenty moons. Soon to be twenty-one moons."

Shell held his breath; he sat on the stairs, hidden in the shadows, listening to the adults converse; no, argue was more like it, for Mama kept insisting that Elia was younger than she actually was. According to the translator, Elia was a whole year older than Mama was insisting, and would turn another year older very soon. Silence settled briefly, before his mother spoke again, her voice shaking. "That can't be right. She was a mere girl when... when..."

Shell didn't blame Mama for not wanting to believe what the translator was saying. He clearly knew Elia better than her own family did, especially since she had been away for so long, and the years... well, the years did tend to blur into a continuous swirl of colors and smells, sound and seasons. It made more sense to Shell, that Elia would be older than Mama thought; he'd been a mere child of eight when she had been taken in broad daylight, and would soon turn sixteen, and Nessa, eighteen, for there were three, nearly four, years between the sisters.

"Why do you refuse to see your daughter as something besides what she is? As a child? She is no more a child than your other daughter is! She is a grown woman, who has embraced the life she was given. She has birthed children, and you think, that her learning your language will mean that she has returned to you? That she has forgotten the ways of the Arjiki, of her tribe? She is Arjiki, and will always be Arjiki, no matter-"

"What are you doing?" The boy turned with a soft gasp as Nessa silently joined him on the stairs, tucking her nightgown around her legs.

"Mama and Papa are trying to convince Tibbett that Elia is white again, not savage." He winced as she reached out and pinched him. "Ow! What was that for?"

She met his gaze, eyes blazing. "That's a dirty word! She is not savage, Shell! No more savage than Tibbett is."

The boy studied his sister, gaze narrowing before he turned back to the conversation. But something caught in his mind, and he turned back to Nessa. Supper had come and gone, and both he and Nessa had been sent to bed early; Elphaba had slipped off to her room as soon as the meal finished- or, at least, that's what both siblings assumed, seeing as they hadn't seen or heard a word from their older sister since dinner. It was still early; darkness had only just fallen, leaving a thousand stars in its wake. Despite her shakiness, she was quickly picking up their language, to the delight of both their parents. "Since when are you so friendly with the translator, Nessa?"

She snapped her mouth shut, wrapping her arms around her knees. In retaliation, he reached out and pinched her, and she winced, but didn't say a word. Shell watched his older sister, but she refused to acknowledge him, and after several minutes, got up, silently slipping down the stairs and out the front door. A moment passed, before he followed.

From his place on the porch, he could see Nessa sitting on the step, and beyond her, Elphaba, wandering among the fields of wheat, black hair loose around her shoulders, barefoot, the hem of her nightgown shifting in the evening breeze. She didn't say a word, and not for the first time, Shell wondered what she was doing. He'd snuck out the night before; watched her wander among the wheat in the late hours while the rest of the house slept, always hurrying back to bed before she noticed or returned.

Is she calling to her gods? For her husband? Is she performing some ritual in hopes it will take her back to the tribe she lived with? He watched in silence as his oldest sister tilted her head back; a cry, so similar to a wounded animal's, escaping her throat, before she sank to the ground around her. It made no sense- she was starting to speak their language again, which meant she was returning to the white man's world. So why was she still so upset? She was finally home, after seven years away. Why couldn't she be happy?

"I think she misses her children."

Shell turned to his older sister, brow furrowing. "What do you mean she misses her children?"

Nessa's gaze took him in from the side as he joined her, and she swallowed thickly. "I know you're probably too young, but I remember how Mama reacted after she was taken that day in the grasslands." Her gaze slipped back to their sister, nearly hidden out in the wheat. "She was heartbroken. She didn't function properly for days after. Papa couldn't get her to eat, let alone function enough to care for both of us. All she could do was sit and stare off into the distance. She blamed herself for Elia being taken. I think she still does, to some degree."

"But Mama did nothing wrong."

"But she also didn't stop them from stealing Elia away. Not that she could, but still. The guilt has been enough to eat her alive. And Elia was the oldest. Mama probably thought that Elia could take care of herself, but she hadn't counted on-"

"... them." Shell offered softly, curbing his desire to use the word 'savages'- for it was clear that even though majority of the people in Nest Hardings saw the Arjiki as such, they were the furthest thing from it, having provided their sister not only with a protection these last seven years, but a home, a marriage, and children. The same children she was now grieving for; because though they were not dead, the miles that separated them brought about a different kind of death.

Distance. And the feeling that she had would never again hold them in her arms, kiss their heads, sing to them, watch them grow...

All the things Mama had gone through after Elia had been taken.

Shell turned to his sister, as Elphaba's cries sliced through the air, animalistic and wounded, as she wrapped her arms around her womb, rocking back and forth on her knees, begging the gods to take her back to her children. "Mama should know. She should recognize it, shouldn't she? That what Elia's going through is what she went through."

"A woman cannot recognize her own pain in someone else, unless she sees, and your mother does not wish to see."

The siblings turned as Tibbett moved past them, going out into the wheat.